On Point

In my usual two weeks after New Year's Fashion, I have joined Weight Watchers. Again. This event coincides with another troubling event that occured last week.

Driving along, on the one sunny day in several days, I glanced into my rearview mirror to make sure my hair was still this side of hideous. WTF is that sticking up out of my bangs? No. No No No. It can't be. A silver wire. A stray piece of tinsel. A sliver of gum wrapper. Gulp, a GRAY HAIR. My first. I have always considered myself very fortunate to be the only child out of 5 to have made it to 35 without a gray hair. In fact, my parents and siblings were all fairly gray by 35. Except my dad, who claims his gray hair held off until age 40...when I was born. Never heard that joke before. Anyway, that gray hair was a wake up call. No, I am not dying my hair. Well, unless my gray hair turns out to be that hideous blondish brassy gray.

It isn't about the single silver thread. It's about getting older. And getting older means that I can't just cut out cokes and drop 10 pounds anymore. I'm going to the beach this summer and it has occured to me that if I want to fit into any bathing suits that I own, even my "big girl" suits, I had better start doing more than reaching past the delicious red canned beverage that I love so. I'm fairly proud that I have maintained the massive divorce weight loss that I enjoyed 5 years ago, give or take 10 pounds. However, I am in that in-between weight range. I haven't reached the point of Lane Bryant, but my big ass need not darken the doorstep of The Limited for a while either. And, it really isn't even about poundage anymore. I have always weighed more than I appear. It is all about carriage and my carriage has turned pumpkin-like over the last couple of years. I am doughy. Granted, I expected a little pudge with my newfound relationship happiness. It happens. But when newfound relationship happiness takes you to the beach, that shit has got to go. So...Hello Weight Watchers my old friend. I've come to count with you again.

Something has changed since my last half-hearted effort at the Weight Watchers Point System. Normally, I could convert a little nutritional data into points with little effort. My high school algebra teacher would be so pleased with me. But now, it is all different. I installed the Iphone WW app, so my trips to the grocery store now take twice as long, as I wander up and down the aisles, calculating. Something must be working though, I have lost 2 pounds in a week. And, this week, unless something huge happens (no pun), I will have points left over. I am all about the points. I enjoy counting things and making lists; therefore, WW works for me. I can (ok, do) spend hours at the site, making up hypothetical menus. So, let's see, I can eat 23 almonds and be ok, but if I eat that 24th almond I will have to choose something different for dinner. I am all about the planning. The execution...well....

To shore up my chances at success, I added a "fitness" routine. I have always loved aerobics, but can't really afford to join the local fitness club. But, I have Wii fit and a newfound interest in it. The step aerobics "game" is fairly basic, and boring. However, after mastering that, I unlocked an advanced version which is a little more fast paced. Couple that with the risers I purchased for my Wii balance board, and MY CALVES ARE KILLING ME. My balance board is pimped out like a 1978 Lime Green Cutlass with hydraulics. I also acquired a dancing game, and found that I am almost too embarrassed to do this, even alone. Harriet The Dog hides her little face when she hears the music cue up. I don't remember being this uncoordinated. Where did that ceiling fan come from?? Ouch! My shin! Ok, so I may need a bigger "dance floor". But, it is fun and fun is key.

I am 18 pounds away from my "goal". The real test, of course, isn't the pounds. I am approximately 2 sizes away from my bathing suit. It is a shame test. I put the suit on, look at myself in the mirror, and if I feel the least bit ashamed at parading around in said suit in front of my loved ones, I've still got work to do. I'm not trying to be buff, just comfortable. I will update you, gentle readers, with my progress or lack thereof. No meters, no before/after pics, just words.

And that stray gray...still there. I am not plucking it. I don't want to take my chances that the old (gray haired) wives tale is true. I don't need 7 more growing in it's place. I will just wait it out. The sun and saltwater will bleach the rest of my hair to sufficiently disguise it. I hope.

I'm counting on it.